Divergence
by awordycontradiction
Summary: Maybe Stiles was still the same person, and it was Lydia who changed.
1. Divergence

The cell phone buzzed gently in her hand. She quickly looked at it, wondering if it was Allison explaining why she couldn't meet Lydia for lunch. It wasn't like it even made a dent on the list of complications the teen had these days, but her curiosity shined through, and the sense of normalcy was an urgent dream. No matter how immature and plain it may be.

The A name that crossed her screen sent a well deserved wave of fear down her spine. Lydia forgot she, - in not so many words- agreed to go out with the boy from the library. Aiden seemed harmless, charming even. But then Stiles had to catch her off guard, explaining his alpha status and how he was probably planning on ransoming her off after school. She ignored the message with a little pout.

It wasn't like she even wanted to go out with the mysterious, motorcycle riding, identical twin having, hunk of a high school loner anyhow. He was flattering and persistent and Lydia had enough of that in her life already. She gave a sharp look in Stiles' direction.

He was in the middle of a conversation with Dr. Deaton. The two men huddled close, heads pressed together near the examining table. They were muttering softly about something supernatural or another. Lydia wasn't in the mood to pay attention.

She was genuinely surprised to find the towns veterinarian waltz into the school's music room alongside Stiles that afternoon, and was even more surprised that she had agreed to go back to his office, to talk strategy and mythology. Lydia wasn't so sure she trusted the vet, he kept far too many secrets to be deemed reliable in her eyes. But he was the closest thing they had to solving the murders.

Lydia rolled her eyes. She wouldn't have been able to stay away if she tried. And she knew Stiles wouldn't either. She saw the look he gave her that morning. Letting his dad handle the sacrifices wasn't in their best interest, whether he knew what they were or not. It was pretty hard not to spot the betrayal Stiles felt. They were in this together now, he thought she knew that.

Lydia did. It just took some getting used to.

She walked over towards the end of a discussion about the girl Heather who was murdered. Allison had explained in the car the other morning that Stiles knew that one personally, and Lydia couldn't ignore the way her heart sank for him. The loss she felt when she believed Jackson was dead was unimaginable. If Stiles had feelings for this girl, than she'd be able to relate.

It was funny; she insisted to herself while watching the way the dull examination light sharpened his features, making everything angled and rough. Stiles' brown eyes deepened with an authority that Lydia had never caught before. It changed him completely. She was finally in his element. Crime solving and ass kicking. Stiles was good at this. Lydia was shocked that it took her so long to see that there was much more to Stiles Stilinski than a nervous twitch and fumbled sentences. He was brilliant. And Lydia would never use that term loosely.

They weren't all that different. Smart and defensive. Brash and contriving. Their divergence didn't keep them in separate circles, or separate worlds any longer. Stiles was her equal. And Lydia felt safe in knowing that. Finally someone on her level.

For so long she was kept in the dark, slowly allowed to derail inside her own brilliant head. Suffer for months over something completely out of her control. She blamed them. All of them, for longer than she'd care to admit to herself. They left her for dead, and they knew it. But Stiles was the shining light. Just like she thought he'd be. He wouldn't let their mistake go neglected.

Stiles sat with her, for hours some nights; in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp or out in front of her house with the street lights glaring off the jeeps dashboard. He was a fountain of information and she guzzled it down. He didn't give her a chaser and she didn't want it. Something happened to them, over the summer. She could see that now. In the way he had her undivided attention, how his inelegant behaviors were almost favorable, and it was sealed in the knowledge that she called him twice; not another name on her mind.

Lydia wasn't sure if he even noticed. He was so engrossed in the supernatural world these days, he completely missed her new perfume and never commented on the back to school skirts she purchased. It was both refreshing and troubling. And that added to his differences. Going from that awkward, lanky, sidekick that followed her around and gave her cryptic warnings, to a man that wasn't ashamed for the consideration he had for her.

"Lydia, what do you think?" Stiles asked gently, cautious not to startle her. But it was too late. Her heart rate increased and she blinked rapidly at the boy she had been elaborately analyzing.

"What was that?" She mumbled, pushing her hair away from her face and shoved the notebook and that stupid oak tree away from her.

"Deaton thinks we should check Harris' apartment. The schools secretary says he never clocked out for the day but he's gone."

Lydia nodded, shoving the book into her bag along with her car keys.

"I'll ride with you?" She asked, almost coyly. Lydia cringed.

Stiles' lips tugged up at the corner, but he didn't smile fully. She was grateful for that. It had been, like for the three months of summer, the two of them against the world. Lydia put on a brave face, but when it came down to it, she wanted Stiles by her side.

If he knew the truth, he never let on. "Sure." He nodded.

It wasn't like she needed Stiles to protect her. Lydia was a capable woman. If she was going to be honest with herself, she'd have to admit she enjoyed his company. She watched as Stiles rolled his eyes at Deaton while shrugging on his plaid button down. His arms got caught inside the sleeves. He wiggled and flailed until his hands were peeking out of the opening. Lydia laughed quietly to herself.

"Ready?" He asked in a huff. His eyes showed some agitation, his cheeks hot but his words were kind and soft.

"Do you have one of those-" His hand patted his head, full of thick wavy hair. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Stiles hair pins only work in the movies." She explained while walking towards the door. Stiles followed behind her. Barking a goodbye to Dr. Deaton and holding the door open generously for Lydia.

"But you have one, right?" He whined.

Lydia sighed heavily. "Of course I do." Her comment made them both smile.

As they stalked towards the powder blue jeep next to her sleek blue car, the only two in the lot, it made her think about the two of them. They really were off in their own world. Lydia slammed the door shut as she hopped into the passenger seat.

"Buckle up." He chirped while tossing his phone towards her. "Can you put that in the GPS? It's Harris' address." She nodded, but didn't take her eyes off of the boy to her left.

Maybe Stiles was still the same person, and it was Lydia who changed.


	2. Gasoline

**So this was going to be a one shot.. but I received some wonderful encouragement and lovely comments and a lot of followers and instead of just making a new one shot each time, I can link them together and create my own little story out of it... so thank you and enjoy :)**

Her hair smelt like gasoline. It was the only thing keeping her sane. Hold onto something anchored in reality, to glue her here. The front door slammed shut, the sound echoed across the empty house. Mrs. Martin was out, again. It was seven fifteen. She could always try and get some sleep. She tossed her purse onto the hall table and made sure the deadbolt was in place before charging the stairs.

The shower was scorching, it was like her skin was melting away with the grime and nightmares she has collected over the past few days. Her green eyes closed as she rested against the far wall of her shower stall. But the action had her jerking back into place moments later. She could only re-live the explosion behind her lids.

The therapeutic sponge her mom brought home one day did nothing but make her hands itchy and sensitive, leaving her skin a puffy red. She could still feel the soft material of Stiles' sweatshirt, like it was bunched between her fingers right now. She could feel the way her hands pressed firmly down on him, blocking him from the fire.

What made her act like that? The previous two days were starting to haze over, morphing into a fuzzy cluttered blur. But some moments cut through her memory like a knife. _Or a saw_. Those voices, the panic, the anger, the serenity. It would haunt her, she knew it. So many lives lost, and she couldn't help them.

Lydia Martin never thought she'd want to help anyone but herself. But the way that Isaac and Boyd were acting changed that. They reminded her of what she had gone through months earlier. How she wasn't in control and no one should ever feel like that.

Scott was the worst, Scott lived with a guilt that Lydia refused to acknowledge. All the situations that could have been avoided, had she spoken up. But things like that didn't sit well with her, and no one had made her feel guilty for it. Until that night, until Stiles believed she could have had something to do with it.

The cold truth was, Lydia didn't know. She felt like herself, she could account for all her actions in the last four months, educating herself on werewolves helped her feel comfortable living in Beacon Hills, being subjected to what she had been. She didn't want to be terrified inside her own head. Didn't _want_ to feel vulnerable.

But she couldn't forget the way Ethan stared at her, -life threatening incident momentarily forgotten. The look spoke _volumes _to a girl who got real good at reading between the lines. He knew, and she knew he knew. She just prayed Stiles wouldn't find out. And that angered Lydia, tossed more gasoline onto the fire already brimming inside of her. Stiles wasn't her keeper. She didn't need to tell him every little thing. She could speak to anyone she wanted. Aiden included.

She turned off the water, ignoring the sounds of a baby crying deep within her mind, or the strain of a safe crushing the life of a classmate. Lydia was sure those images would haunt her for weeks. The helpless feeling of not saving someone wasn't her thing. It was Stiles'. He confided in her over the summer his deepest fears. That Scott would find someone better, that maybe he'd finally succumb to his frail humanity, that he wouldn't be able to do it all on his own.

Lydia secretly liked that side of Stiles. His eyes were always soft and his voice a velvety gentle hum that seemed to restart her heart. All those nights under the streetlamps glow. Sitting side by side, eyes locked together, a steering wheel and the oldie's station. There wasn't much better memories than that.

But he was ready to throw it all away. Stiles was willing to lose his life if Scott was ready to go. That angered the red head more than she wanted to realize. _He_ was important, _he_ wasn't a nobody. Nothing quite as amazing would ever happen to any of them again. They needed to stick together. And a guy she hadn't thought twice about a year ago was suddenly the most important thing on her mind.

Saving the two idiots seemed so natural. Their touching moment would've meant nothing if that fire consumed them. And in a strange way, Lydia felt it her job to protect Stiles. He would've done the same for her in a heartbeat.

As she pulled the soft covers up to her chin and attempted to ignore the sliver of morning light that crept through the crack in her curtains, Lydia knew that that was what she needed to be focusing on. People like Stiles and Scott and Allison. People who would believe her without a single justification, and people who risk their lives for each other daily. Popularity and beauty can only mean so much, but brains and wit and strength was going to be what saved her, what _saves_ all of them in the end.

This time when she closed her eyes she didn't smell the gasoline and she couldn't feel the soft, comforting material of Stiles' hoodie. But she also didn't see that distorted, frightening image or the explosion that produced it. That could wait til later. After she had a proper nights sleep. After the suicidal voices stopped echoing inside her head. After-

A small noise sounded from Lydia's cellphone that was only inches away on her nightstand. She opened one eye drowsily to see the sender. Thinking it might have been Aiden again, and praying he wasn't the clingy type. But it wasn't Aiden, or her mother explaining her absence. _Of course_ it was Stiles, complete with one simple, annoying sentence.

**Stilinski: We have work to do. **

He would more than likely be the death of her.


	3. Heavy Heart

The detour into an empty classroom wasn't in Lydia's navigation system when she got the text to meet Aiden in the old utility closet. The tight hold the boy who grabbed her produced didn't make her feel any sense of security, not like he normally would have. Lydia shrugged him off with a mild glare and some pursed lips that were ready to be kissed senseless.

"Really, Lydia. An Alpha? I mean come on!" Stiles scoffed in her general direction. Lydia leaned against the teachers long desk, cupping her bags strap and slowly bringing it down her arm, setting aside. He had that crazy look in his eye again.

"Do you realize _how _dangerous that is? I mean when Scott turned, it took a lot for him to stay in control with Allison- and you just, just let him-" Stiles paused, hands firm on hips, teeth gritting together with some hidden restraint.

"_Fondle_ you! You let that bastard _fondle_ you and you don't even bat an eyelash. What gives?" Lydia rolled her eyes standing straight and smoothed out her skirt.

"Stiles, I told you a thousand times, I can take care of myself. I'm a pretty good judge of character I'll have you know."

Stiles grunted, muffled some cynical laugh she knew all too well.

"Yeah like your last boyfriend? Now he was a keeper wasn't he?"

At the mention of Jackson, Lydia had an urge to slap the sheriff's son so hard Scott would feel it. Jackson and Aiden were different. Jackson was off limits and Stiles knew it.

"It's not my fault you're just jealous." She spat with more emotion than she wanted. It wasn't an angry accusation but one of a hurt pride.

Lydia hadn't a clue how Stiles found out about her and Aiden but she wasn't going to feel bad about it, or make excuses. He was a decent guy once she got past the werewolf abilities and vague after school plans. It didn't matter, so did she. They never talked about what sides they were on or who was after who. It was simple and high school and hot.

"That's convenient." Stiles mumbled. "Play my own emotions against me when it suits you. But you know what? News flash, Lydia. I can't feel jealous when I'm too busy feeling sorry for you."

And then he was gone. Stormed out of the room and into the herd on the other side of the door. Lydia refused to get upset by Stiles' words. She missed the days when he wasn't very good at them, and keeping her happy was a goal. Stiles wasn't worried about that anymore. He didn't care what he said around her. His mediocre filter was gone.

But his actions always left her with a heavy heart. Because they were always pure. It was Lydia who was being the stubborn one this time, though she'd never admit it to him. He was looking out for her. But if that was all it was, then why did he leave her feeling so empty? His golden brown eyes, the ones that always reminded her of an autumn sunset were detached. Stiles didn't carry himself with that same flame any longer. Lydia was just a girl and Stiles was so much_ more _than a boy.

Well Stiles be damned. Lydia wasn't going to stop her fling with Aiden just because he didn't like it. His lips were hot and trained against her neck. Her pulse bunched with his touch and she was simply ecstatic that he was such a fast learner. With his abilities, Lydia was banking on it.

Though, as his lips found hers again, she couldn't stop picturing a rather sour teenager. She felt his presence and at that moment she hated Stiles. It took all her concentration to stay focused. The boy moved against her, propping her on the desk and removing his shirt. His skin was as hot and dangerous as his kisses. She sighed into his mouth. Her latest boy toy, though good looking and eager, did nothing to distract her. She would blame Stiles for the rest of her life for that, and prayed she wouldn't _actually _know him that long. It wasn't her fault Aiden made a move.

Lydia jerked away from him. His eyes were kind and clouded with confusion. His chest rose and fell with the intensity and need. But Lydia found herself no longer in the mood. He trailed his hand down the side of her face.

"If you're worried about getting caught-" But she stopped listening. Why had she thought that? Aiden made a move? Her subconscious didn't have to follow up with a _'Stiles didn't.'_ It was overwhelmingly implied.

Before Lydia could pretend to care what Aiden was saying, he was kissing her again with an enthusiasm that made her heart feel like a weight in her chest. But the fire alarm sounded and Lydia was delighted for it.

"Let her go." His voice was determined. There was nothing light and airy about him right now. It was always something she came to expect. Stiles was just happy. He might have been cynical and a little too easy to fluster, but underneath everything, he was happy and helpful and Lydia hated herself for having a hand in taking that away.

Cora Hale told her to stay away. How many people were going to tell her that before the sun went down? It was almost like they knew something she didn't, but Stiles didn't keep secrets from her anymore. But she kept them from him. As Stiles dragged her to Harris' room, Cora tagging behind like the third wheel she was, Lydia had the feeling things still weren't right between them.

"Deaton is missing. _You're _going to find him." Stiles demanded. He opened his backpack on the floor, rummaging through it.

"Who's Deaton?" Cora asked. "The Vet." Lydia shrugged, briskly. If Stiles can act like a stubborn child so can she.

"Is this for _real_?" She spat looking down at the silly board game that Jackson forced her to play once. It didn't work needless to say and Lydia thought Stiles was smarter than that. But his eyes were desperate. Deaton was an asset and a friend but she couldn't focus right now. She didn't want to be something different. She hated what happened to her last year, she wasn't going down that road again without a fight. It was a shame Stiles was going to be the roadblock.

"You're something!" He snapped at her. Lydia's insides felt like they were set on fire but she remained indifferent to her tormentor and Cora Hale who _didn't _seem to get the hint and leave them to it. Stiles wasn't asking her to leave, and Lydia wasn't aware that Derek Hale and _co_. had reign over them.

Maybe Danny had the answers. Stiles ushered both girls to his jeep and then broke about seven violations getting to the hospital.

"Wait here!" He yelled over his shoulder while he jogged up the path towards the emergency room entrance. Cora stayed silent. So did Lydia.

Before she knew it, Lydia was learning that Beacon Hills was basically just a hell hole for the impossible and that this was far, _far_ from ever being over. Deaton was in the bank that everyone went to that first week of school _without _inviting her and the alphas had Derek Hale trapped in his apartment with Boyd and Isaac. Part of her prayed Aiden wasn't there. She didn't need Stiles or _now_, their new BFF Cora rubbing it in her face.

Scott went to save Deaton and the threesome went to Derek's aid. The ride over, Lydia stayed quiet. She was still angry at Stiles, but more angry at herself. She never asked for any of this to happen and she never wanted Stiles to find out about Aiden. Mostly because she knew he would react just like this. But she couldn't blame him. She'd act the same way. Like that fire that inflamed her heavy heart when Cora who they've known for _point-seven_ seconds grabbed his hand, finished his sentences and made such direct eye contact, Lydia found herself feeling like _she_ was invading a personal moment.

That was their thing. She didn't want Cora apart of it. No matter how much she helped out. But Lydia wasn't jealous. Stiles just had that way with people. She looked over, watching as the street lights reflected off Stiles tense face. She didn't want to fight with him anymore. The fate of nearly everyone they knew was up in the air right now and she was grateful to be there with Stiles. He always made her seem stronger and sometimes that strength turned her stubborn. He looked back at her with the same intensity.

It was different than with Aiden. His intensity was purely sexual. Stiles' and Lydia assumed hers went much deeper. They were friends and they were going to drive each other insane but they were in this together and she was thankful for that. But then she remembered Cora, head held low, a firm line on her lips. Her eyes dark with worry and Lydia felt bad for all the horrible things she thought about her today. Her brother was in danger.

Boyd was dead. Cora was in hysterics over his body and Stiles was comforting Derek. It was all happening so fast, Lydia needed to lean against the stone wall to grasp anything _but _reality. She wanted Allison there. Boyd couldn't have been dead. They just saved him not even a week ago. But the black water lapped against his still body and the younger Hale was covering him, shielding the larger male in a way she supposed Cora wished she could have earlier.

Lydia looked over at Isaac and their English teacher. The woman wore a look Lydia knew all too well and Isaac remained stagnant, watching on in helplessness.

Stiles brought her home that night and he didn't even blink when she threw her arms around him in the only affection she would ever allow. The lines between indifference and more were really blurring with those two and she couldn't risk it. She couldn't lose him. He was her rock. Lydia mumbled an _'I'm so sorry' _and she wasn't really sure which event it was for, but Stiles nodded, finding a situation to link it to. He was off to meet Scott and Lydia was going to crawl into her mothers bed tonight, not caring how old she was for it.

She watched him drive away and the heaviness slowly filled her heart as his taillights dwindled away with the night.


	4. Un-Explainable

Lydia sat in a near comatose state, staring out her living room window watching as the rain droplets collected there, sliding down once they grew too heavy. She had been left alone for the first time in too long that night. She nearly forgot how silence sounded until she closed the door quietly that afternoon. Her mother was still in New York on business, and Stiles had promised her that he would come over after learning Derek Hales current location. Lydia didn't blame him for running away after Boyd's death. She wanted to run too.

Lydia stared down at her cell phone. It was nearing nine o' clock and all the days irritations seemed to sweep through her like a the wind breaking against her window. She wanted to ignore the sensitivity she always seemed to feel when thinking of Cora Hale. She walked side by side with Stiles to his jeep that afternoon like it was natural. Like she actually went to high school and like she hung out with Stiles every day. Lydia glanced down at her phone again in innocent hope. _No wait_. That was Lydia. She had to convince herself that she wasn't being replaced. It repeated like a mantra all the way home. It was just so easy to fall into a routine, the red head concluded shifting her legs to let her head rest gently on her knees. Stiles was too easy to fall into.

She was now facing the hall where the front door stood like a focal point at the end. She wanted to see Stiles' headlights through the frosted glass. The storm was becoming increasingly difficult to look at. It made her restless. The small beep announced that Allison would be coming over after her own research mission, Scott in tow. Good. Lydia was looking forward to the retelling of all her friends discoveries. She itched to be a part of it, but knew sometimes, not everyone had a place.

But she wanted Stiles to get there soon. His jeep wasn't the safest car on the road and with the rain and the thunder, Lydia grew tired thinking of all the sinister complications her mind wouldn't let her ignore. She just wanted him safe. The two made up the night Boyd died. She called him at an unacceptable hour crying, not realizing her mother was gone, mixing up the weeks and events easily these days. The solitude she felt was overwhelming. He stayed on the phone until she fell asleep. Lydia refused to ask him to come over, she would not be one of _those_ girls who needed someone to take care of her. But the calm that seemed to flood through her as Stiles whispered -not to wake the sheriff on his only night off- that she was safe and everything would be alright sustained her doubts, even if she could hear his own within the kind words.

There was a loud knock on the door and Lydia jumped, eager to answer. She padded her way down the hall and stopped, realizing she practically leaped and cringed because this wasn't the first time she's rushed to Stiles' side like this; before opening the door. He stood there on her porch with a solemn look. It did something inside Lydia to see him physically shaken. She tilted her head and he obliged, it was their personal greeting for some time now. Lydia found herself relived not to see Cora Hale tagging along behind Stiles. She shut the door in haste and followed him back towards the living room.

"You never sit in here." He commented, shaking out his hair as she walked by. Lydia gave him a pointed glare, flicking a raindrop off her cheek and Stiles managed a smile.

"I wanted us to be comfortable." She shrugged, taking her previous seat. Stiles' mouth twitched but he sat next to her wordlessly. "I never complain about your bed." He teased, but it fell flat.

There was a difference in him, it was clear as day to Lydia Martin. She wanted to dive right in, bombard Stiles, milk him for all the answers he received, piece together the story for herself. But she held back and it wasn't in her nature to ever do so. Not with him anyway. It was one of the things that changed about her.

"So, did you end up finding Derek?" She asked quietly. Stiles barley shook his head. He wasn't looking at her, but down at the cream colored carpet her mother spent a fortune on.

"No. Me and Cora talked to Peter though. Complete waste of time." Stiles assured her, but his words were heavy with a different idea and his eyes were far off, farther than Lydia had ever seen.

"No. Stiles, tell me what happened. You sound.._ wrong_."

His eyes snapped up to meet her green ones. There was a warning in them. But Lydia Martin never backed down from a challenge. She rose a brow and cocked her head. Stiles cleared his throat and moved closer to her. A year ago that would have had Lydia jumping off the couch, but now, it had her waiting until Stiles had the courage to move that extra inch.

"Peter told us this_ half-assed_ story about how Derek fell in love when he was like our age and he killed his girlfriend."

"And you don't believe it?" Lydia asked, her voice soft.

Stiles shook his head. "I kinda do." He shrugged looking down again.

Lydia noticed Stiles constantly moving his eyes from his lap to the arm he had lounged on the top cushion of the couch. She wanted to asked, but she didn't want to shut him down. Slowly, Stiles was losing that fire that Lydia loved so much. Ever since the cross country trip there was something off. First it was the thing with Scott, and Lydia knew that she didn't help, getting herself involved with an alpha, risking her safety and now the death of another classmate. It was all crumbling around them.

"I'm here to listen when you're ready." Lydia stated, she pulled Stiles' free hand into her lap and squeezed it. He nodded, his focus finally on her. So he started the retelling of a Peter Hale original. It was beautiful and tragic and it made Lydia stop several times to actually try and fathom that the cold, begrudged Derek Hale was possible of romance. But Stiles' eyes never lightened. Not like they usually did when he unburdened himself with something so heavy.

She was about to ask but he stopped her, removing his hand in hers to rake through his hair. "Would you believe that?" Stiles inquired, looking at her like she had all the wisdom and answers. Lydia shrugged a little helplessly.

Peter locked himself inside her mind for months. He fed her lies and let his charm do most of the threatening, but there were also many truthful things he told her. Like that werewolves existed and her friends were liars. That took a lot of getting over.

"I'm sure what he told you was a variation along the lines of the truth." She felt her way through it. "I mean he isn't one to make himself look bad, right?" Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

He let his hand fall back into her lap. Lydia smiled and scooped it up. It made her feel safer, in some silly unexplainable way.

"There's something I never told you though." Stiles cleared his throat.

"When we were having heart to hearts over the summer, I left something out." He looked up, his eyes were growing warmer.

"The night you were attacked, Peter offered me the bite." If the scene couldn't be any more dramatic, Lydia heard the distant rumble of thunder looming over the town.

She didn't understand why he never said anything. Stiles was still clearly human, so what did it matter?

"The thing is, I almost let him." Stiles' voice grew soft with grief.

And that's when it hit her. Stiles' inadequacy. His constant need to be on top of things. Lydia always believed it was the over achiever in him, but it was so much more. All those secret feelings he shared with her. The fear of failure and never being good enough. Stiles had the chance to change that.

"And knowing that there isn't always a future for someone who turns.." Stiles drifted off. Lydia licked her lips and tilted her head to stare at him.

"But you already knew that, Stiles. _Boyd, Erica._ They turned and look where it led them. Just because you're human doesn't mean you're any less. You can't feel guilty about something like that."

She was trying, really hard actually. Stiles always seemed to feel things a lot more personally than Lydia ever could. It was one of the most sincere things about him. He was devastated because there were people who didn't survive from a bite, and she knew his thoughts were pointed at Scott. Lydia was finally thankful for werewolves. It was a funny, shocking, _genuine_ thought. Lydia never did this. She never thought of others with so much adoration. With Jackson, she cared, she cared so much. But her love was always limited to where he would let her stray. He was difficult and even after the love she had for him brought him back to life, he kept her at a distance.

Sure, she wanted great things for him, and she thought about him every day in London. Wishing him the best, hoping he was coping. But she was never this thankful for something good to happen to someone else. Things with Stiles were changing. Lydia could admit it. Where they were going, that wasn't something she was willing to think about. And she knew he wasn't either. But Stiles having Scott in his life was probably the best thing for him, and Lydia was thankful for that. Werewolves were probably what was going to get them all killed, but werewolves brought her to Stiles and she could never hate this world that much for it.

"What? What's wrong?" Stiles asked. Lydia had missed what he said. Her thoughts bringing her closer to something she didn't want to get into.

"Nothing." She whispered, looking away. Stiles didn't push, and part of her wanted him to.

He sighed heavily. The rain was picking up. She almost missed it. She hoped Allison let Scott drive. His abilities wouldn't get them in an accident. Hopefully.

Before Lydia knew what was happening, Stiles had his hand caressing her side. His fingers brushed against her shirt so softly, she would have missed it if he hadn't started talking.

"I kept thinking of _you_. When Peter was talking about Paige getting attacked. It was like with you. When Peter attacked you. God Lydia, it brought back so many crappy memories." His hand left her side and so did the warm feeling inside of her.

"I'm fine Stiles." She assured him. Though she knew the scar he was trying to sooth would never leave her. It would be her personal reminder that magic did exist.

"But what if you weren't? What if you weren't immune? Would you have died just like she did?"

Lydia's eyes snapped up to meet his. Stiles' iris' were a gold with the lamps glow.

"I'd like to think I'm stronger than that." She rose a brow. Her voice low.

Stiles laughed. He broke their eye contact and looked down. "I know. I know. I'm sorry." He shook his head. Lydia frowned.

Before she could over think it, and before Stiles could look away again, Lydia has her hand resting against his cheek, it was just as soft and intimate as when he touched her waist. His surprised eyes bored into her.

"Even when I'm perfectly safe, you're still worrying about me." She smiled, her fingertips tracing his jaw. He leaned into her touch, whether or not intentionally and sighed.

"It's just because I care about you." Lydia's heart fluttered in her chest and she had to swallow it down.

"Worry about yourself sometimes, all right?" It was light like a tease, but the meaning was true.

Stiles' hand grabbed her wrist, he had to have felt her pulse jump beneath it. They were leaning in, closer. Her mind tried desperately to find something wrong with this. She thought of the story Stiles had just told her. Derek's love got somebody killed, but Lydia had seen love revive someone, and it made her move even closer. Stiles' eyes were on her lips. Would he let her kiss him? He hadn't shown any interest in her for a while now. And part of Lydia believed that that was what was drawing her in. Hard to get was such a cliché but it worked.

Neither would ever know. The front door open moments before their lips could meet and Lydia heard Allison greet them, loudly.

"Thank god it's warm in here!" She moved towards the living room. Followed by two sets of footsteps.

"You invited them?" Stiles asked, moving over a cushion. Lydia nodded, a blush tinting her cheeks.

"Hey guys!" Allison came and sat next to Lydia. Her smile was plastered but much like Stiles, her eyes were burdened with frustration.

Scott followed by Isaac walked into the room moments later. Scott had a sheepish look and Isaac stood awkwardly at his side. Lydia smiled at the two, knowing they probably heard what was about to happen.

"Isaac wanted to know what we found out too, is that alright that he's here?" Scott asked Lydia.

"I told him to call about ten times." Isaac muttered, looking down.

Lydia nodded. "Of course." She smiled kindly at Isaac. He gave her a small smile back.

"Make yourself comfortable." She stood, "anybody thirsty?" Stiles was looking down but rose a finger.

"Hey, I'll help." Allison stood too. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night." Lydia frowned. "Your grandfather wasn't very helpful?" Allison rolled her eyes. "I didn't think he would be."

Though Lydia found herself wishing she had more time alone with Stiles, she couldn't deny the relief she felt in not being alone for the night. Allison made the coffee and Lydia found some packaged cookies in the cabinet that she never remembered buying and the group sat and exchanged stories and ideas for the night.

They weren't average teenagers anymore, and Lydia didn't regret knowing werewolves. Her life had changed so much in less than a year. Going from someone who hid who they were, and being annoyed that there was _actually_ someone who saw through it, to being proud of all she was and still having that same person liking her just the same. Through all the lies and truths and myths and facts, the five of them were no closer to figuring everything out. They still didn't know what the sacrifices were for, and they didn't know how to stop the alpha pack. Lydia was still a mystery and Derek was still missing. But it didn't seem to matter. Lydia saw Issac crack a smile, and noticed how happy Allison seemed with Scott around. She pretended not to see the looks Stiles was throwing at her and she knew he was pretending not to notice how her words were directed at him.

Lydia was definitely changing and it wasn't that unexplainable. It was the ones around her who were at fault. And Lydia liked it that way.


	5. Positive Thoughts

**So I didn't want to write something too off topic from last weeks episode, since I wasn't sure what part Lydia would play, and now since she wasn't in this Monday's episode, I'm just gonna go for it. **

The air was empty. The wind wasn't loud enough to drown out his doubts. Stiles Stilinski wasn't sure if he imagined that entire night. Part of him believed he'd drive down to the police station and leave his father a veggie burger disguised in some McDonald's packaging before going home to finish Mr. Harris' sub's _relentless_ textbook reading. His father was _not_ abducted by his English teacher and was _not_ going to be ritually sacrificed to fulfill an evil vendetta for one of Derek's crazy girlfriends.

The walk off the roof was a slow and desperate attempt to calm his shattered nerves. The air had chilled tremendously from the brewing storm, lightening flashed across the sky in iconic patterns that the boy forgot the moment after they appeared. His head was spinning and his heartbeat was erratic. Stiles knew he needed to calm down.

This was how they always started. The flushed cheeks, those shaky legs, that aching heart. It had been nearly two years since he last had a panic attack and he was not going to hand in his survivor token just yet. He could fix this. They could fix this. Positive thoughts were key to staying sane. Stiles just needed to try harder.

He forced himself to concentrate on moving his legs, but his body was slowly numbing. From what, Stiles wasn't sure. It was a mix of everything. He needed to get inside before an idle branch knocked him off the unsupported rooftop, or he jumped with a good gust of wind; because it's one of _those_ days. Falling off a four story building didn't seem so painful as thinking about the safety of all the people he loved.

Once inside, Stiles' eyes relaxed in the light. He couldn't hear anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He knew Isaac would go without him, and the Alphas would surely chase after Allison. Scott was in the hands of a demonic, blind werewolf that clearly only cared about creating some twisted, evil army, and their parents were locked up somewhere, awaiting slaughter.

He needed that Plan B, and he needed it now.

Walking through the basement slowly, Stiles noticed Derek's limp, motionless form still lying on the ground. His head was positioned in such a way that the elevator doors couldn't close. Stiles thanked god for motion sensors or he'd be seeing something straight out of a Saw movie. He kicked the alpha in the side and watched as the block of muscle just rocked back into place.

A sob erupted in him. They were all screwed. So unbelievably screwed and Stiles couldn't think of a plan B. He was too busy worrying about everything. He glanced back down at Derek, the crappy elevator wiring made the light flicker above him, casting a ghastly glow over him.

The mans eyes were closed, his mouth was parted and he wasn't moving. But he was breathing. Stiles sighed and rubbed his clammy face with his hands. He didn't need a reprise of early in the ambulance with Cora. He was so scared she'd die, that they were all going to die. He felt so lost and sick with fear that if he didn't sit soon, he'd collapse next to Derek.

Stiles moved a bit away from the werewolf and let his back rest against a supply cabinet. He slowly slid down, listening as the rubber of his sneakers scratched the linoleum. The sound turned his stomach. Stiles couldn't do this on his own. He knew that. He felt guilty for _actually_ being jealous that someone else was taking on the responsibility role. It didn't matter that Cora was unconscious when he was ranting. It was said and he couldn't pretend it wasn't.

But Stiles hadn't been alone, not this school year at least. Scott had morphed into this amazing, responsible, compassionate guy. Stiles knew it was always there, but he was elated that Scott was finally seeing himself clearly. He didn't doubt that his best friend would fix everything, but how much of himself would he lose in the process? _That's_ what scared him.

Lydia had also been there. Stiles' eyes fluttered in surprise. He may have actually went at least three hours without thinking about her. He was relieved not to see her face at the hospital. He didn't know if he could protect Cora and himself and worry about her. Alone and defenseless. But Stiles had to stop looking at her like that. She was strong and independent. That's what attracted him to her in the third grade, and it's part of what kept him hooked. Lydia always had things figured out, and right now, he needed that more than anything.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolling quickly to her number and pressed send. Maybe just her voice could wake him from this. It rang seven times. His throat felt like sandpaper. Where had she gone from the school? Thinking back now, to just that evening, he practically bolted to Derek's loft, Lydia a second thought. She would never hold that against him, but it didn't matter. He would.

It went to voice mail and he squeezed down fresh tears, letting his head bang once against the metal closet. He tried again, concentrating on equally distributing air inside and out of his body. He had to press the phone closer to his ear -screw cancer warnings- to keep it in place.

"Stiles?" The redhead mumbled. "Hello?" Her panic was evident.

"'Sup" His voice cracked. He sounded so meek. Neither of them needed that. The girl on the other end let out a great sigh.

"Stiles. Thank god. Where are you?"

He sniffed, rubbing his hand across his nose. "You're okay?" He asked, Lydia frowned. He didn't sound good.

"I'm fine, Stiles what about you? Where are you? what's going on? Talk to me, _please_." She begged shamelessly.

"They got Scott too. He took Scott and I can't- I can't wake Derek and _god_- Everything is falling a part Lydia." She heard the first sob

"We're not going to make it out of this one."

Stiles wished he shut up. Lydia didn't need to listen to all his doubts, and within his blabbering not a single positive thought.

"Stiles, listen to me." Lydia demanded. Calm and cool.

Stiles took a shaky breath and nodded. Once she felt like she had his attention, she continued.

"Tell me what's happening right now. Clinical, remember? Nothing's changed. We're _practically_ sitting in your room right now and I'm pretending you're not staring down my shirt. Okay?"

The boy let out a choked sob. Or was it a laugh? Lydia was trying to make him feel better. They were acting out scenes that they had repeatedly over the past several months. Huddled on his bed. His spread sheet of Beacon Hills crimes in the background. The sheriff pretending to care that his door was shut. He could do this. Stiles closed his eyes.

"S-she has my dad. A-and Scott's m-mom. Ms. Blake's going to sacrifice them. She's completing this-this_ thing_ and Scott went with Deucalion- he wants him to join his pack. -and I had to give Cora mouth to mouth -and Isaac and Peter brought her to the _next_ nearest hospital.- and Allison chased the alphas away and now I'm alone in the hospital with an unconscious Derek." Stiles gasped for breath.

Lydia frowned and pushed her hair away from her face. She wasn't going to tell him she didn't hear half of that.

"How's your night?" Stiles asked with a broken laugh.

She felt the hot tears fall down her cheeks, but she ignored them. He sounded terrible. He mentioned in passing, a careless brush off really, that he had panic attacks. This sounded like the breaking point of one, and she needed him to focus.

"I'm in the next nearest hospital, actually." Lydia mumbled, looking around the stagnant waiting room. It was filled to the brim with Beacon Hills patients. Lydia hadn't seen Isaac or Allison, who ditched her at school with an _'I'm sorry'_ hours ago. She prayed she was okay.

"Why?" The alarm in Stiles' voice was good.

"Completely unnecessary. But after Ms. Blake choked me, Allison thought I should get it checked out."

"S-she _choked_ you?" He sounded astonished.

Lydia licked her lips. "Yeah, but it's not bad. She stopped once Scott and _your_-" Lydia's eyes narrowed. "The sheriff stopped her."

"How'd you get there?" He asked accusingly.

"I didn't drive. Danny brought me. He came looking for Ethan, since he fled the school after the whole concert incident."

Stiles closed his eyes. "I'm coming."

"No, Stiles you can barley talk, I doubt you can drive."

The boy bit his cheek. She was right and he didn't care.

"Besides, you can't leave Derek. You all need to come up with a plan."

"I thought maybe we could make one, together." He mumbled, sounding sheepish.

Lydia smiled. "Okay. But _only _over the phone. I'm not risking your life just so you can hold my hand while to doctor gets on my nerves." They both smiled at that.

Stiles examined his own hand -the phone free one- clenching and un-clenching. What would it feel like to have Lydia fill in the gaps, willingly? Not in a rushed attempt to drag him along, but in a real way. Like talking in the halls, sitting in a movie theater, strolling through the figurative park kind of way. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. It made him feel guilty thinking of Lydia right now. He was stuck in an abandoned hospital with a lifeless werewolf and a list full of people unaccounted for. But, maybe that's why he needed it.

Lydia was a positive thought after all.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked again. He knew if she was asking, he'd roll his eyes. But it was just something always hanging in the air with them. He always needed to be reassured of her well being, especially after last year.

"I'm fine, _Stiles_." Lydia snapped in a husky tone. She had that edge like he knew she would.

But even after the words left her lips, the girl was unconsciously rubbing the skin where the wire rested hours before. It was raw to the touch, but she could care less. Nothing would beat the total horror she felt as her fumbling, awkward English teacher nearly choked the life out of her.

"I'm a banshee." Lydia blurted. She didn't feel like this should be coveted information. Stiles would find out, they all would.

"Excuse me?" He whispered.

"Yeah.. Ms. Blake told me, um-, _after _choking me. I've been reading while waiting here- and it makes _some _sense. Well as much sense as werewolves and banshee's _can_ make."

"Wow." Stiles was stunned.

"Didn't really think _that_ was it."

"Me either." Lydia mumbled.

Stiles was surprised, sure. But having a lead- knowing what she was, was beneficial. Though he didn't know how much he trusted Blake's word. She was a liar.

"Change the topic please." Lydia laughed breathlessly.

"I hit your boyfriend with bat." Stiles shrugged.

"What?" Lydia laughed.

"Yeah, the _wonder_ twins; I tried to knock them out with a bat, but uh- they broke it." Lydia smiled.

Stiles heard Derek grunt. "Oh god. Lydia I think he's waking up." Lydia jumped in alarm. "Go!" She whispered.

"Lydia-" Stiles whispered. Wanting to say something.

"Just go. We'll have plenty of time later to talk."

She didn't know how true that was, but they needed some comfort.

"Be careful." She added before hanging up and letting the phone rest on her lips. A small kiss good luck. But she wouldn't admit that.

They just needed to stay positive, and everything would be okay.

**I don't like going off topic too much... so sorry if it was! **


	6. Tether

**That episode was great! Wasn't it? I wanted to firstly say thank you to everyone who is reading. It means so much to me. Secondly, if you guys liked that last episode you should totally read Shelter As We Go if you haven't already because IrisCandy totally thought of that idea first and her story is amazing. And lastly, if any of you watch Glee, did you guys think of Finn when he was talking about being tethered to Rachel when Deaton said that Stiles and Lydia have a connection? Or was that just me? Lol. Anyways, enjoy! And seriously, thank you :)**

When Mrs. Martin picked Lydia up from the hospital the previous night, something inside her cracked. It was like she was six years old again and she ran to the woman in front of half the town and cried. She let go of all her fears and her pride and wrapped her arms tightly around her mother's expensive silk blouse and sobbed into it. And instead of Mrs. Martin brushing it off, pulling Lydia away and grabbing a tissue from her purse, the woman held her tight. As if to say _screw_ appearances.

After hanging up with Stiles the worry flooded through her in mixed waves of confusion, doubt and anger. He was on the brink of losing his mind and her heart hurt for him. She wished she was there with him. Mrs. Martin was like a breath of fresh air as she waltzed through the doors with the practiced _Martin Strut_ and a distinct look of fear. Lydia didn't want to call her mom, but Danny had left in a hurry, still looking for Ethan and everyone else was off chasing the demons of the night without her. And if she were being honest, she needed her mom.

In the early hours of the morning, while the sun was still asleep behind the stars, Lydia poured her heart out. She told her mother everything she could. She briefly ignored the guilt, because no matter how dangerous, she wasn't ready to hear about werewolves and convinced her mother that the sheriff was on the case of tracking down the insane English teacher who strangled Lydia. It wasn't a lie, she told herself. She slept in her mothers bed, like she wanted to do since the night Boyd died. Their fingers were laced together and it was a wonderful feeling for Lydia to actually have her mother there for once.

The next morning it occurred to her, that she no longer cared. It was a breath of fresh air, like a weight was lifted. Her mother was still in _pre-werewolf_ Lydia mode, and Lydia was finally shedding _that_ skin. She was a survivor. She had been through hell and it showed. Lydia swore she was getting wrinkles from frowning so much. She was sick of hiding who she was, how smart she was, all that she'd been through. She knew her mom would take a little warming up, but Mrs. Martin was understanding and sympathetic. Maybe, Lydia thought, she should have confessed to so many near death experiences _months_ ago.

* * *

He showed up at her door and to both their surprise she hugged him. Well, _bombarded_ him. She was so glad he was okay. Physically, anyway. His eyes were too cold. But that was okay. There was time to fix that.

"Come on, I thought we could ride to school together." He mumbled, moving his body to get a good look at her face.

"Want some coffee first or something?" She asked, a little panicked. Once they left the house, the day started and once the day started, Lydia was never sure when it would end.

"We have some time." Stiles sighed, looking at his phone. Lydia knew it wasn't for the time, but for a message. Good news or bad. Lydia smiled and dragged him through the hallway, but the two never made it to the kitchen and ended up in her living room.

Her words were meant to encourage him. That she could be an asset, that maybe everything could be okay. She could sense death, she might be able to find them. That's what her and Scott promised each other. She knew he would never stay with the alphas. She knew he was good. Stiles just needed to be reassured.

"We're gonna be late to English." Lydia mumbled, getting up from the couch.

"Oh joy." He grated. "Wonder who the sub will be." They exchanged sad smiles and headed out the door.

* * *

Allison's dad was taken. Allison's dad was the third sacrifice. They were running a little behind. They had time. The_ had_ to have time. Ms. Blake had a plan, and if they were dead, things would be different. Lydia stared at Stiles, but he wasn't looking at her.

"Stiles?" Lydia begged. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm having a panic attack-" He was. The _think_ was for her benefit, but he was. His whole body changed, became rugged and unfocused. Lydia looked around the hall, no one was paying attention to them, but if Stiles passed out right there, they would. She pulled him towards the first door she saw, and thankfully it was the boys locker room.

He was struggling. His eyes were blank but with a panic so keen on shaking Lydia to the core. How can someone be so broken yet so collected in their brokenness? He swore he couldn't control it, the way he collapsed, the way his body hunched over, the way his lungs begged for air, it wasn't an act. But he was still there.

Of all the things Lydia had read up on, during her stint as the towns psycho, a panic attack lead her to believe that you weren't in your right mind. That is what she thought she was having for a while, panic attacks. Simple and clinically to the point. But Stiles was hyper aware of everything _but_ Lydia moving in closer. It was instinct, she held his face in her hands. If their eyes met and she could beg him to calm down.. Lydia knew it sounded insane. Happy thoughts _wouldn't_ save him now.

But she could. She knew she could. She was Lydia Martin and she could do anything she set her mind to. Too much was at stake and right now, she needed Stiles. If she couldn't get him to maintain his breathing, maybe_ restarting _it all together would be their best bet. It was the last helpless thought she let slip as her eyes closed and her lips smashed into his.

Then it all sort of happened in slow motion. He gasped beneath her lips and parted them, latching onto hers softly. Lydia was secretly amazed that he didn't just pass out. It was a risk to kiss him, and Lydia didn't even _have_ to kiss him, but the shock value was what she was praying for and she felt him sigh quietly as she pulled away. It took her a while to open her eyes. But when she did Lydia saw his staring back at her with equal parts amazement and confusion. Stiles looked so sad, like he would break down at any moment.

"How'd you do that?" His eyes searched hers.

"I read once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack..." Lydia casually hoped he was asking if that was the only reason. His liquid caramel eyes were borderline_ pleading_ with her.

That wasn't meant to happen. She wasn't supposed to have the erratic breathing. She wasn't supposed to feel faint and flustered and confused. But there she was, panting in the boys locker room and something about it; being there with Stiles, listening to his breathing mix with hers, felt right. Like there was nothing unusual about any of it. And _that_ scared her.

"Thanks. That was really smart."

Lydia heard herself make a sound, and she felt her face tighten. His eyes went to her lips, to her eyes and back again. Even in the mist of a panic attack, Stiles was complimenting her. "I don't know, I just read it somewhere."

He wasn't making it awkward. Why did Lydia believe he would? Stiles was so much more than that kid with a crush and as they sat side by side, footfall finally ceasing in the hallway, Lydia actually missed it. A small part of her wanted him to grab her face, kiss her back with the same.. _something_ she kissed him with. She wanted him to challenge her, tell her 'no, that's _not_ how you stop a panic attack.' But mostly, Lydia wanted him to feel something, because she did and she was not going down that road alone.

* * *

Stiles sent her to Derek's loft. Like she was some sort of carrier pigeon. She tried not to dwell, and was just glad she could be of some use. That was until _he_ opened the door. It was like every nerve ending in her body was on overdrive. The high she had been on, the way her heart couldn't quite keep pace because of Stiles stopped abruptly. And she missed it.

Peter Hale stared at her with a highly dumbfounded look and she only hoped he was feeling the knifes in her glare. She didn't feel happy anymore. She felt violated. She felt the nightmares that she suppressed for months all rush to the surface and she wanted him to feel the anger. She wanted him to regret what he did.

"You." "Me."

And that was that. Like he hadn't kept her hostage inside her mind. He looked away but she wished he didn't. She wished he was man enough to look into her eyes, prove that he wasn't a coward. But he was, and that hurt Lydia more than him stripping her of her sanity ever could. She let a _coward_ control her. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

* * *

The last time Lydia was in the veterinarian clinic she watched as Cora and Stiles formed a bond. She also watched as Cora Hale got all_ touchy-feely_ with him. But she couldn't think of the girl in that pathetically jealous way now that she saw her dying at Derek's place. She hoped she survived this. Deaton, of course had a plan. Which was vague and filled with consequences. Just as always.

Once Stiles left with Dr. Deaton to find Scott, Lydia gave Allison the hug she knew the girl needed.

"You're father is going to be fine. Okay? This is going to work. I'll be back at your house making inappropriate passes at him in no time." Lydia tried to smile, but her eyes filled with tears. Allison managed to laugh, and hug Lydia tighter. "Thanks. I'm really sorry I got you into all this."

"You didn't. I'm glad I'm here." Lydia shook her head.

And she was. Just like when the gang brainstormed in her living room, she liked having a group of friends who all cared about each other. She liked not feeling fake,and she enjoyed being able to be herself.

* * *

The idea of watching her friends die, even for a few moments left her cold. They would do anything for their parents. Lydia was so unbelievably thankful she didn't have to make that decision. She was also thankful that unlike all of her friends, she had both parents, no matter how hostile they were to each other. They were both in her life.

"But it's not just someone to hold you under. It needs to be someone who can _pull _you back, someone who has a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether."

Lydia had always been in control. She was top of the class, wore the right clothes, flocked around the _correct _people. She had it all once. And then she met Allison Argent and started seeing things differently.

As the two smiled across the room at each other, the heaviness in the air lifting subtly for a moment, Lydia didn't regret it. If she never made the decision to yank Allison in her life, she'd still be centered around _those_ people, the ones that ditched her the moment she started acting crazy. She'd still be dating Jackson Whittemore, struggling helplessly to make him love her the way she deserved. She'd still be Lydia, _Queen Bee_, Martin and she'd still be unhappy. Werewolves would still be a thing of nightmares and Stiles would have flown under her radar until graduation.

If only the old Lydia could see her now. She started walking across the room towards Allison, until Deaton stopped her.

"Lydia, _you_ go with Stiles."

She was only shocked for half a second. As she looked at Allison, staring back at her with set lips, and furrowed brows, but her eyes had a small amount of humor. They all knew, didn't they? And then she dragged her gaze to Stiles who looked sheepish at best. Well, how could he look really? Lydia thought. He was about to let himself die, no matter how _fleeting_ death would be.

The emotion she felt when their eyes met sucked the air out of the room and crept up on her as if the very foundation she stood on was ripped from under her feet. Stiles was stitched into her life and she regretted every single horrible thought she ever invented involving him. It made her want to cry and run to him, in front of everyone. In that tentative look she saw an antsy boy at Winter Formal telling her she looked beautiful, and she blinked at the memory of how relieved she was to see a familiar face when she made her way out of the woods after two days alone. She had to look away as the day before school, and the car accident flashed in her head. How concerned and careful he was with her.

Stiles had become such a _integral _part of her life. He was her best friend. Though she would never admit that to Allison. And she had spent all that time from the start of summer till now, blocking it away. Afraid to more forward, afraid to change something that seemed so perfect. She couldn't do this. She couldn't let Stiles die, by _her_ hands. There had to be another way. Lydia nearly missed the tension in the room as Scott got with the program. He had been through so much, and now, seeing Allison and Isaac share something, it couldn't have been easy.

Deaton started throwing instructions, but Lydia couldn't focus. Stiles wasn't speaking to her, and she wanted to tell him that she cared. It didn't have to be spoken, she knew he felt it, but she wanted him to know that this connection didn't come from that kiss in the locker room _but_ from every moment he made her feel alive. He cared about her for so long and she was horrible to him. If Lydia just opened her eyes years ago, and let him in, things might have been different. But strangely, she didn't regret it.

If she hadn't waited until her sophomore year in high school to give Stiles the time of day, she wouldn't have appreciated him the way she did now. They both knew it. The thing between them was a slow burn, a scorching, surprising impossible thing that neither of them were ready for, but something that Dr. Deaton decided to share with the class.

She mustered the strongest look she could as he stepped into the metal, ice cold tub. She heard him shutter, she heard Allison shutter. She squeezed the girls hand quickly and flashed a brief smile, but Allison couldn't return it. Lydia didn't blame her. The red heads hands shook as she laid them firmly on Stiles' shoulders. He was physically quaking beneath her and she pretended that it was just her touch that send shivers down him. He stared up at her and nodded curtly, but the sensation reverberated through him and he looked more like a bobble head. If she could, she'd trade places with him.

This was the second time she thought of Stiles before herself in a dangerous situation. For a moment, she almost wished they had the warmth of the gasoline explosion surrounding them. She wanted to be back in her living room with Stiles, subtly telling him how much she cared. She wanted to be shopping at the mall with Allison and rolling her eyes at Scott. She wanted to be a different person, in a different town. But the yearning came and gone because she was who she was. Lydia didn't want to change that anymore.

On Deaton's signal, Isaac, the vet and Lydia slowly guided the three into the frigged water. She watched as Stiles' eyes slipped closed and she just prayed that he'd open them again. She kept her eyes trained on him. Waiting as all the bubbles _slowly_ dwindled away. She wouldn't cry. They'd all come back.

Lydia realized that the vet was right. She was tethered to Stiles. As his lungs _begged_ for air, and as his body shut down from the intensity of the water, so did hers. Just like earlier, when his panic attack had a similar, but mild affect on her. She was as much a part of Stiles and he was of her and he couldn't die, they needed to figure this out.


	7. Sequel

"There's nothing else we can do." Deaton sighed rubbing his icy, wet hands on his face. Lydia's face snapped up glaring at him. Isaac followed suit, and strolled across the room to stand on the opposite wall with the vet.

"Lydia, come on." Deaton watched her stare at Stiles' pale face under the water. "It's up to him now."

Lydia begrudgingly made her way towards the men, glancing back at her friends lifeless and alone. If there was some sort of heaven and hell and something in between, she prayed they were together there. Once she claimed the middle of them, all three stared on in strained patience. They'd wake up, they _had_ to.

Isaac threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her to him for a moment, rubbing her arm with his large, warm hand. Lydia hadn't realized she was shivering. She smiled weakly up at Isaac and she saw a ghost of one flicker on his down turned mouth.

Deaton had went out into his front office hours ago, Isaac was laying on the floor, his eyes closed, but as far as Lydia could tell, no where close to sleeping. Lydia rested against the wall and crossed her arms. It had been so long. She could barley register the time, but a day had passed, her mother called, furious. Lydia explained she and Allison had a History project to complete and she was just going to sleep over there.

Lydia was worried. What if Deaton was wrong? What if Lydia didn't have the connection with Stiles that the vet thought she did. Stiles had shamelessly admitted to having feelings for her, and Lydia could never muster anything more than an eye roll towards him. She couldn't let herself believe that someone cared about her, more than Jackson, more than she cared about herself. It wasn't fair to Stiles. And then she kissed him, and it probably made him think they were meant to be.

The red head pressed her fingers harshly to her lips, mimicking the same pressure that her kiss with Stiles administered. She gave the both of them false hope, because she couldn't risk anything happening with Stiles. She couldn't risk his life with all these new abilities she hadn't figured out yet.

"Something's happening!" Isaac shouted. Lydia hadn't realized he got off the floor. Deaton flew in, smiling, and for the first time since they went under, she seemed hopeful. Lydia pushed away tears she hadn't realized she cried and stood straighter, more confident. Isaac took the spot at her side again just as Deaton motioned them to stay back.

It was like a scene out of one of those intense action movies Jackson and Danny used to drag her to. The water rippled and then all at once the three came up, jumping from the water, gasping for air. Scott was out of the tub first, shaking, but unharmed.

"You guys were out for a long time." The hopeful, revived looks on their faces drained some, confusion swept in along with a sever chill. Lydia ran to grab towels. She handed Stiles' his and he gave her a quick glance.

* * *

The bell chimed above the front door of the vets office and Lydia nearly forgot that this was an_ actual _functioning establishment on off days. "I'm looking for Lydia."

It wasn't Aiden, and she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. But Ethan's face didn't seem comforting. She felt something, something wrong inside of her. But she ignored it. "What do you want?"

Ethan's eyes, identical to his brothers looked at her sadly, but Ethan always seemed a little more emotional, less guarded. "I need your help."

"With _what_?" Stiles popped out of the back, a glare set for the alpha. Lydia wanted to grin or roll her eyes. She heard the authority, the protectiveness she always chastised him for. But she couldn't deny she liked it this time. They had had the night from hell, and never knowing if he would wake up, left her a little tender to anything he wanted at this point. Not that Lydia would ever admit that, to anyone. Not even herself.

"I'm gonna go with him. You guys focus on finding your parents. I'll try to help Derek." Lydia stepped out from the protective barrier the backside of the veterinarian office provided. She stood next to Ethan and saw the accusation on Stiles' face.

"No. How do you know he's telling the truth?" Lydia started to speak, wanting to sooth his doubts. Ethan wouldn't hurt her, she could feel it.

_"Stiles." _Scott muttered slowly. "Let her go."

Lydia wanted to thank Scott, but instead she just grabbed Ethan's arm and rushed out the door.

The drive to Derek's loft was quiet. They took her car, and she hoped there would be no damages inflicted on her baby. The last time, her father looked like he would kill her. Though thinking of murder right now didn't exactly help.

"Thank you, for coming with me. My brother really isn't bad. I swear. He cares about you, Lydia. He's just not ready to admit it to himself yet."

Lydia nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. She wasn't really happy with Aiden, not after Boyd, not after seeing the destruction he caused. Ethan seemed remorseful and she held tight to that feeling.

* * *

Peter made sense. And Lydia wasn't one to think anything positive about Derek's crazy, unsympathetic, _cowardly_ uncle. He wanted Derek to run; _surprise,_ surprise. But Lydia couldn't argue. Although Derek Hale wasn't Lydia's favorite person, she didn't want him dying.

"What do you_ feel,_ Lydia?" His voice echoed through her head, and it took all her strength to keep eye contact. She would be damned if she let him have any satisfaction. What did she feel? She felt such a hatred for that man _burn_ through her bloodstream it could power a small city. But he knew something about her that she didn't and at the moment, she wanted him to tell her everything he could about banshees and how he knew she was one. She wanted everything to finally make sense because Lydia promised herself she would _never_ be left in the dark again.

But a cold swept through her, and Lydia had to suppress the shutter. She didn't know if Peter Hale induced the feeling, but it was something. "I feel like I'm standing in a graveyard."

Part of her felt it, believed that they would all die. The other part of her wanted to get Derek and Cora the hell out of there. Peter could stay for all she cared. He could die trying to forge some sort of sympathy for his family every person in the room knew he didn't care about.

But they left, including Peter and Lydia felt like she had done one thing right that day. Her and Ethan waited, he knew Aiden and Kali would be coming soon. And when the time came that she was finally face to face with the alpha, Lydia wasn't scared at all. Part of her believed it was because she had some twisted immunity that no one understood, _sans _Dr. Deaton, most likely. She made a mental note to ask him about it if she survived.

As Kali walked closer, not at all amused by Lydia's lack of tact, she heard a deep rumble from within Aiden, who had eyes set solely on the back of the woman's head. She grinned, a cat like face and turned her back on Ethan and Lydia. She started snickering at Aiden. Professing that Lydia was just a _job_ and the red head looked away, because despite not caring much about him, she didn't really like not having all the facts.

Before anything could happen between Aiden and Kali, a dark figure crashed through the glass ceiling and flawlessly landed, snarling, confident and crazy. Lydia's English teacher never looked more deadly. Not even on the night she strangled her.

She watched in awe as Jennifer ripped Ethan and Aiden from each other, effortlessly throwing them against separate walls. She watched on in horror as Jennifer, calling upon the darkest power Lydia could ever imagine, sent shards of broken glass into any exposed skin Kali had, killing her.

And then Jennifer turned to Lydia. Poised and ready for pretty much anything, Lydia assumed. The pounding in her head was coming from her heart and her brain and her veins all at once. Lydia tried to calm down. Not to let fear cripple her.

But something bigger than her English teacher came from the shadows and Lydia couldn't believe this was what she had missed out on witnessing. What Stiles was so theatrical about. Lydia knew better than to believe he was fabricating the story, but seeing what Ethan and Aiden could do left her shocked, open to an attack.

It charged at Jennifer, and in one perfectly practiced, fluid motion, she snapped it's neck, and Lydia knew it was over.

"What do you want from me?" Lydia asked, pressed against the wall, the wind from the storm detaching spars hairs from her perfectly made braid. She wanted to go back to that past morning, when her mother's soft, _soothing_ hands brushed it all into place.

"I want you to scream." And then Jennifer's face was back to that of a monster. Lydia had only thought she imagined that tortured and beaten corpse like face on the night of the concert. She wasn't even that close last time. But leave it to Lydia's keen, _perceptive_ mind to collect every detail and be one hundred percent accurate.

And it came from the deepest part of her. A part that Lydia was sure wasn't human. Her screams echoed and she prayed she woke the dead. Anything had to be better than this. When she stopped, physically incapable of screaming anymore, She slowly crept to the ground and hugged herself. Jennifer, who was back to the beautiful and not so doe-eyed teacher, crouched before her and patted Lydia's face with a gentle hand.

"That a girl." She snickered condescendingly and moved towards the center of the room and waited. For _what_, Lydia was fearful for.

When Derek Hale burst through the doors of his loft, Lydia thought her prayers were being answered. Cora rushed in after him, running to Lydia and in that moment, she _finally_ appreciated the younger Hale.

"Just help me." Jennifer begged. Lydia knew Derek would cave. He cared too much, and she just wished he had gotten out of there in time. But he left moments later, staring apologetically at his sister and vanishing in the cold, dark night with the Darach.

* * *

Cora was pulling Lydia to her feet, begging her to move, telling her they needed to leave. Lydia didn't know where to go. Everyone was looking for the parents, what could they do? As the girls made their way towards the front door, they heard a pop and some stretching and were faced with Ethan and Aiden back to their rightful forms.

"They're alive." Cora whispered astonished. Lydia felt that hope again, the same one she felt when Dr. Deaton was smiling in his office. Things might look up.

Cora sprung into action. "That's your car out front, right?" Lydia nodded, confused. She grabbed one of them, -it was too dark to figure out which- and ran out of the room, a blood twin on her back. She came back moments later. "Come on, Lydia, lets go." She grabbed the next one, Lydia saw in the pale moonlight that it was Aiden, and she quickly came to her feet and followed an impressively strong Cora out of the room and to her car.

"Where are we going?" Lydia yelled over the brewing storm.

"Deaton's!" Cora answered, slamming the back door and hopping into the passenger side. Lydia took a deep breath and sped out of there.

Deaton was fast, _as if _someone would be back, and grabbed Aiden and rushed him into the back room, Lydia followed behind, as Cora started bringing in Ethan. Once inside, the storm stopped echoing in Lydia's head and she could think clearly. Deaton instructed her and Cora to help set up the stations and promised that as long as they could heal on their own, Deaton could help them.

Lydia stood next to Aiden's unconscious body. He was willing to save her life. She really hoped they could save his.

"Have you heard anything?" She asked once Deaton came back in the room, a towel over his shoulder and a large needle in his hand.

"No." His voice was dry, and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

She was worried about Stiles and Allison. Had they found the tree? Were their parents still alive? Was Scott and Isaac powerless by the moon? What about Derek? Lydia couldn't stop the constant rush of questions and fear to sway her in every different direction. She tried to_ feel_ through it, like Peter had suggested. Where was he now?

She closed her eyes and waited. Waited to feel something, anything. But the only thought was that everything would be okay. She wasn't sure if it was denial. Lydia was _great _at denial. But because she wished things to be okay. They would be. She needed them to be.

"They're waking up." Cora breathed in a sigh of relief. Lydia moved again towards Aiden. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled up at her. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and couldn't shake the happiness she felt that he was alive. Lydia didn't really understand it.

"I knew."

"What?"

"I knew you liked me."

Lydia licked her lips and smiled. Maybe she did. It wasn't like with Stiles, when she kissed him she had feelings she never thought she'd get. With Aiden, he was fun, and he had baggage. But like she thought just hours ago, standing in that exact room, being with Stiles was a risk, being with Aiden wasn't. He was something familiar in a _distant_ way. Not in a Stiles' -know everything about her and can see into her inner thoughts- but in a comfortable, already been there way. And that was okay for now. And Lydia decided that since he _almost_ just died, she could let him think what he wanted.

* * *

After the whole ordeal Lydia went home to find her mom sitting on the couch was a bowl of popcorn and The Notebook playing.

_ "Finally."_ Mrs. Martin cooed.

"Your favorite movie is on."

Lydia threw her bag down and sank into the couch, her head resting on her moms shoulder.

"How was the project?" Mrs. Martin asked.

"I'm sure I'll get an A." Lydia answered, staring at the screen just in time to watch Allie and Noah kiss in the rain.

* * *

Allison, Stiles and Scott spend the next few days with their parents, for obvious reasons. Allison called her to come have lunch at her house, so she could hit on Mr. Argent and Lydia gladly took up that offer, even bringing over the Argent's favorite cookies.

She hasn't seen Stiles since that night at the Vet's office. He came in with a bad gash on his forehead, and Lydia was told through Scott that he had been in an accident. They hadn't spoken, and Lydia tried to believe it was for the best.

He hadn't been the same,_ they _hadn't been the same. Lydia wondered if her frantic worrying at the office the night she helped drown her friends had an affect on things. Like he could sense that she was backing away. But what Lydia realized more, was that he was moving further from her.

Allison tried to comfort Lydia. Tell her that it was normal, that she felt that way too. But Allison was also spending _a lot_ of alone time with Isaac so Lydia knew it was solely for her benefit.

They had all come back to school, and within a week, things started to feel normal. Well, as normal as things could feel in Beacon Hills. Lydia was done sneaking into janitor closets with Aiden and convinced him that they should go on a real date. Scott had warned all of them that something else might come to town sooner or later, that what him, Stiles and Allison did, selfishly opened their already overwhelming life's up to more danger. But Lydia didn't care, not right now at least.

* * *

Things were okay. Except for her and Stiles. She had barley seen him that day. Only that morning in English and he didn't even acknowledge her greeting. Lydia wouldn't say she was worried, not out loud, but she was. Aiden had walked over moments before and started talking about weekend plans. Lydia was barley listening.

And there he was, like he _hadn't _been avoiding her for the past week. He had an arm slung around Scott and the two were laughing without a word said. A ping of something, it might have been jealousy, or it might have been longing; crept into her heart. It made it physically impossible to move, although that was what Aiden was suggesting. Lydia stared at Stiles as he glided down the hall, the sun finally shinning -after what seemed like months- on his face. He looked happy, like that brutal smudge of darkness that Deaton threatened wasn't a thought, like he just survived the impossible. Like they all did.

So Lydia was happy for him, she knew it couldn't have been easy to seem normal, to act like he didn't know about werewolves and druids and banshees. It was obvious he was keeping his distance because of Aiden. Lydia had spent enough time with Stiles to know how he operated. He wasn't one to overstep, and a part of Lydia wished he would. He couldn't be happy about this. He should have spoken up._ Not _shut her out.

She stared up into Aiden's face. His eyes steady on her. She could like him eventually. It was a harsh reality. Spending the past few months having a physical relationship with him was different than what he wanted now. It mattered to Lydia. That he -by proxy- killed someone she could have gotten to know better. That them meeting wasn't a coincidence. It mattered because she thought she was past that. She wanted something more, something impossible.

She looked down, in what she assumed Aiden took as bashfulness. Lydia was never the shy type. Through the crack his body produced from her spot against the wall of lockers, she could still see Stiles making his way towards the edge of the hall. He had American History, and in moments he would walk up that set of stairs. He paused, clapped Scott on the back and waited for him to turn left. Lydia felt Aiden nuzzle her forehead, breathed in the sugary scent of her shampoo. Stiles was still standing there. He had his hands clasped tightly on his backpack strings, and like a scene from one of those cliche romantic dramas Lydia obsessed over, he turned to look back. He was looking at her. If he could see her gaze through the curtain of leather, Lydia couldn't tell. He looked away a moment later and charged the stairs.

Suddenly, Lydia felt incredibly alone. She pushed herself from the wall and startled Aiden. "Come on. You can walk me to AP Bio."

She secured her bag on her shoulder and started moving towards the opposite end of the hall. "I thought you took Physics?"

Lydia felt him grab her hand, lacing their fingers in a dominant way. "Physics is eighth period."

Aiden rose a brow, almost impressed. That would change. Lydia grinned in a challenging way. "Oh, there is _so_ much you don't know about me."

She smiled because despite everything, it might be fun to actually get to know someone. With Jackson, it was all about status and looks. And she already knew everything there was to know about Stiles. When or_ if_ their time came, it would be effortless. Aiden had a lot to make up for, and Lydia was willing to cash in. She stopped, pretending to make sure she had everything she needed, and looked down the hall, where Stiles just was.

If her life was a romantic drama, it would be a paranormal blockbuster, and as Lydia pushed through the small yearning she felt, it was official. It was_ obvious_ that there would be a sequel.

_**To Be Continued... **_


End file.
